


Three Thousand Days

by IllegalCerebral



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season Two Onwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalCerebral/pseuds/IllegalCerebral
Summary: In the three thousand days after quitting the BAU, Elle's life takes some interesting turns as she tries (and sometimes fails) to leave the BAU behind.





	Three Thousand Days

**Day One**

“I guess that's it then. You know, when I first joined the team I couldn't figure out why you never ever smile, but now I think I'm actually gonna to miss that”

Elle left without another word, not looking back at Hotch in case it weakened her resolve. She didn’t even flinch when she heard the soft “I’ll miss you too” after she’s slipped from the room.

She thought it would break her heart if it hadn’t been replaced with a gaping emptiness.

**Day Two**

The was a beetle skittering across the tiles of the kitchen. 

Elle sat hugging her knees to her chest watching it clamber around the crumbs from yesterday’s breakfast. She hadn’t moved in an hour, the harder she concentrated on the the beetle’s undulating limbs, the twitch of it’s antennae, the less she thought about the BAU, Hotch’s disappointed face and the red bloom in the centre of William Lee’s chest, his look of shock and the slow motion fall and he slumped to the ground.

Elle blinked rapidly, trying to suppress the feeling of unbearable lightness, as if every atom in her body was trying to fly off in different directions. The beetle changed direction, and the sun caught it’s thorax. It was a pretty bluish, green in the light.

She wondered what type of beetle it was. Reid would probably know. He’s probably be able to reel off a dozen facts abo-

Elle felt the bile rise in her throat.

**Day Thirty**

The room was oppressively dark and the stale smell of body odor mixed with the sickly sweetness of rotting food. She hadn’t emptied the bins in a week. Hadn’t washed in two. The concept of time was pretty much useless to her now.

**Day Forty-Six**

_Daddy I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be strong like you_

**Day Ninety-Eight**

"Elle I know you’re in there”

Dear God why couldn’t he just leave her alone. The man had gotten her shot, he at least owed her some god damn privacy. Today she had managed to crawl into the shower and had taken out the trash so there was some improvement but Elle still wanted to shut the whole world out and disappear into herself.

“I checked in with some friends of yours” Hotch continued “No one has seen you for months. Elle please. I just want to know you’re okay”

The got Elle’s back up, a bolt of anger cutting through the fog like lighting. Okay? Okay? He wanted to know if she was okay.

“Fuck you Hotch” Elle croaked. It was the first words she’d spoken aloud in god knows how long and her throat creaked from misuse, her voice too soft for Hotch to hear. She stomped to the door and flung it open to reveal him standing there, a look of shock plastered across his face and his hand raised to knock again.

Elle was going to scream. She was going to slam her fists into him, break him down blow by blow until he collapsed at her feet, until he knew how she felt.

The two of them stood there frozen. The world started to swim and Elle began to shake. Why? Her cheeks were damp and there was a sound that she couldn’t place. It started as a low rumble and got higher and higher, it kind of sounded like an injured animal. Perhaps the neighbor’s dog had gotten out again...

It didn’t click until Hotch finally moved. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder and after a moment pulled her close, muffling her sobs.

**Day One Hundred and Eleven**

Hotch never struck Elle as the cooking type so she was skeptical about how these omelettes were going to turn out. Since he had knocked on her door the previous week he had texted her every other day, called her once and that morning had appeared on her doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“I don’t know what you like so I brought everything” he had said, holding up the bag. Hotch didn’t even wait for a response as he strode past Elle and headed through to the kitchen. It wasn’t as if Elle had put up much of a fight. She was slowly clawing her way back to normality but she still felt brittle, as if at any moment she would crumble and she wasn’t entirely sure that her former boss making her brunch was going to help.

Elle watched with narrow eyes and a prickle under her skin as Hotch continued to prepare brunch. Her eyes flicked between the clock ticking agonisingly slowly and the flecks of oil the pans was spitting out. The walls were closing in again. 

Silently Hotch plated up the food and together then sat in strained silence at Elle’s breakfast table as they picked at the eggs.

The eggs were good, Elle decided, the company wasn’t.

The upside was though that finally Elle had a plan and sitting there watching Hotch cook, it had become concrete in her head so when she bid him a monosyllabic farewell at the door her mind was made up.

When Hotch returned two days later, two full bags of groceries clutched at his side, the house was empty and a for sale sign was displayed prominently out front.

“Off travelling” an elderly neighbour told him wistfully “Needed to see the world she said”

**Day Two Hundred**

The stars are different depending on which side of the world you’re on, mused Elle, but the sunset looks the same everywhere.

**Day Three Hundred and Forty-Five**

Elle had kept her cell with her, she wasn’t sure why. Mostly she kept it turned off  and buried deep in her suitcase and she roamed from place to place.

She never stayed in the same hotel more than one week and usually moved countries within three.

Every restaurant she ate in she tried to choose something she had never eaten before.

There were a multitude of names: Eleanor Green, Greta Ellison, Ella Monroe, Leigh Hopkins. Phantom women from an obscure US town with no past, rocking up somewhere and then leaving just as abruptly.

Soon though the money ran low and she knew she couldn’t run forever.

In the airport Elle waited for a taxi and on a whim dug out the old phone and switched it on. After about six heartbeats it buzzed with three voicemails from Hotch. Elle skipped to the last one

_Gideon’s left. Just...I don’t know. I don’t why I’m calling. It seemed important. You left first and then...now he’s gone too. For the same reason I guess. Well almost the same reason. Anyway I just...I don’t know what I just. It seemed important to tell you._

Elle hung up. It had started to rain and she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter but it was like she couldn’t feel it.

“Guess that’s that” she mumbled to herself.

It was time to heal, to properly heal. Elle knew this was easier said than done but by god she had to try. 

**Day Five Hundred and Seventy-Nine**

This was a different number to Hotch’s. Elle debated whether to answer for a moment, it had to be a former team member as no-one else had this number.

“This is Elle”

“It’s Spencer”

“Hi”

“Hi”

There was a long pause and for a moment Elle thought the call had dropped.

“Everything okay?” she asked tentatively

“...No...not really” said Spencer slowly “I just need to talk to someone who won’t judge me”

Elle bristled at that though she wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“I’m closing up shop for the day” she said after a moment’s pause “Can I call you in an hour?”

“Please”

**Day Five Hundred and Eighty-Seven**

Spencer Reid was a drug addict.   
Hotch’s wife had left him  
Gideon’s replacement was a prick  
Garcia had been shot  
Morgan had arrested his abuser.

And yet none of them had shot anybody...

**Day Five Hundred and Ninety-Three**

“Are you going to a meeting tonight?” Elle asked as she pulled the shutters down on the store. 

“Uh huh” Spencer’s voice sounded tinny on the other end of the line “Elle?”

“Yeah”

“Could I...could I write you a letter?”

“Instead of calling?”

“Yeah. It comes out better that way. Not everyday but every once in a while, would that be okay?”

“Yeah Reid, that’d be okay”

**Day Six Hundred and Twenty-One**

Elle popped a card with her new address in the post for Reid and then resumed loading the few possessions she had into her car. The letters had been an odd comfort to her, arriving roughly once a week and being a mixture of ramblings about his life (BAU goings on conspicuously absent), his mother and random facts he had read about. They were gloriously disjointed.

The owner of the store Elle worked at was retiring and selling the place on. It hadn’t been a great job but the owner had been nice, Elle had pretty much had free reign and it was far less stressful than being an FBI agent.

She didn’t give the little desert town so much as a glance back in the rear view mirror as it faded from view. She was heading somewhere cooler, fresher now. 

**Day Seven Hundred and Sixty-Two**

The fucking phone rang.

When Elle picked it up all she could hear was heavy breathing and when she opened her mouth to scream at Hotch she was stopped by the sound of sobbing.

Haley was dead.

Hotch had beat her killer to death with his bare hands

**Day Seven Hundred and Sixty-Five**

“Does this feeling ever go away?”

Elle bit her lip and switched the phone to her other hand.

“Eventually” she lied.

After she hung up she threw the phone in the trash.

**Day Seven Hundred and Ninety-Four**

A quaint cottage by the sea was not where Elle expected to end up. She didn’t expect to adopt a rescue dog named Max, to work for a charity that helped rape survivors, to go on a date with an accountant named Peter or to adopt a second dog named Wilbur.

She didn’t expect to be content.

**Day One Thousand and Forty-Four**

“Do you want to get married?”

Elle glanced up at where Peter was chopping vegetables for dinner that night, taken aback.

“Not right now” he said with a smile “But one point in the future. I mean we’re coming up to a year together and I know I wanna spend the rest of my life with you but I wanted to know what you think”

His soft smile and the gentleness with which he spoke made her almost cry. God he was too good.

“Yeah I think I want that too”

**Day One Thousand Three Hundred and Fifty-Seven**

Peter didn’t have any family except his father and sister. Elle had her mother but they hadn’t spoken in years so all in all it was a small wedding but sweet. They had friends from the community, the home they had both found themselves in quite by accident. 

There was a card from Spencer wishing them both well and he had included a card from Hotch in the oversized envelope. Elle was relieved that Spencer had at least kept her address a secret. 

Elle threw Hotch’s card away without reading it. This was her new life now, there  was no room for the past.

**Day One Thousand Six Hundred and Eighty-Two**

Was it possible to mourn someone you had never even met? As Elle read Spencer’s letter for the thirtieth or so time she couldn’t help but wonder.

_Emily’s dead_

“I feel like if I had met her I would have liked her” she told Peter as they sat on their porch watching the grey landscape. This was Elle’s favourite type of weather, not heavy rain but a gentle haze of drizzle, soft grey clouds and a wind that rushed through the trees like a song. 

They sipped hot chocolate and Elle snuggled into her husband, aware of his lack of comment but not alarmed. He knew her better than anyone else and knew that she needed to think aloud, to explore the raw and ugly feelings in a safe, judgement free space. 

The charity was having to let some of their staff go due to budget cuts and Elle figured she was in with a good chance of losing her job. Peter has suggested the idea of moving somewhere warm and sunny instead, his job meant he could work pretty much anywhere. 

Elle needed the coolness though and she loved being close to the sea. There was something about the vast, untamed waters that she found soothing to live on the edge of.

The dogs came to lay in front of them and they continued to watch the rain as the sun set.

**Day Two Thousand Four Hundred and Twelve**

Elle had been sitting outside the library for over an hour, willing herself to step instead but she had been rooted to the spot as if held in place by some invisible force. Her mouth was dry and it was as if no time had passed at all.

She was standing in the street, gun pointed at William Lee.

 _Go in_ , she told herself, _go in and confront the bastard._

Instead she half ran all the way home.

**Day Two Thousand Four Hundred and Fifteen**

When Elle had lost her job there had been weeks of long, intense conversations with Peter over what to do next. Sometimes it had veered into arguments about the future but eventually that had come to some sort of resolution. Elle couldn’t leave what she considered her home, not just then. She also couldn’t go back into law enforcement and an office job wouldn’t suit her.

"How about going back to school?”

“To do what?” asked Elle incredulously.

“Anything you want” shrugged Peter “You talked about training as a therapist”

“Yeah but that takes years and-”

“And what? Elle you were born to help people”

“What about money?”

“We can make it work”

“And I’ll be studying odd hours”

“We can make that work too”

God the man was an angel. Peter was also incredible perceptive, Elle adored studying and the idea of qualifying as a therapist lit a fire inside her that she had believed was gone for good.

Everything had been going great until she had headed to the library to get some books and saw a familiar figure on the street ahead of her. He hadn’t seen Elle but it was a small town and it was only a matter of time. 

For the past three days she had been psyching herself up to confront him, eager to have the advantage when they inevitably came face to face.

When it finally happened he looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Hey Gideon”

**Day Two Thousand Four Hundred and Twenty**

Gideon didn’t end up staying in town long, it turned out he was moving up and down the East coast and he wanted to get going. Elle had a sneaking suspicion that he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. 

They sat in a local diner, Gideon picking at the apple pie while Elle stared unblinkingly at him. 

“You left the BAU” she said.

Gideon’s fork clinked against the plate as he pushed the food around.

“You don’t have to explain it to me” Elle continued 

“I don’t owe you anything” said Gideon sharply, his head snapping up. Elle raised an eyebrow, enough years had gone by to erode most of the defensiveness that she felt over the William Lee debacle. She had done what she felt she had needed to do when she was alone and there was no one there to help her. There was no way that Elle was going to let this man rebuke her when he had abandoned her in her time of need.

“It got to you didn’t it” said Elle, slowly “What did you lose?”

Gideon didn’t respond to that. They sat there in silence for a few more moments.

“I didn’t kill a suspect. I didn’t tank a case because I couldn’t control my emotions” said Gideon. Elle laughed.

“What did you tell them when you left?” the look Gideon gave made Elle’s stomach lurch “You left without saying goodbye?”

That was... Elle didn’t even have the words.

“You bastard” she murmured before standing up.

She saw him a few times around town over the next few days but said nothing to time. Maybe it wasn’t her place to judge him but she couldn’t help it.

It took a few days for Elle’s feelings to settle once Gideon left, there was a stillness inside her that she was fairly certain wasn’t calm. 

Perhaps it was halfway to closure.

**Day Two Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty-Seven**

“Do you still want to move somewhere sunny?” Elle asked Peter over dinner.

“What changed your mind?” he asked. It wasn’t a yes Elle noted. She shrugged, unsure of the answer. Her instinct after running into Gideon was to leave so that her past couldn’t find her again but as she turned the whole thing over in her mind she realised that when she had come here she had been seeking a place to heal.

The wound had closed and it was all scar tissue now, visible but stronger than before.

“I do” Peter answered slowly and Elle felt something inside her break, “But I’m not sure I want to go with you”

**Day Two Thousand Nine Hundred and Seventy-One**

It was ninety-nine months since she left the bureau not that Elle was keeping count. The only reason she knew was by glancing at the date on the calendar and counting back on a whim. It didn’t feel right to celebrate but nor did it feel right to ignore it.

The snow was thick on the ground outside, it had snowed again overnight. Thankfully she had no classes that day and had decided to curl up by the fire with Max and work on a paper. 

Peter had gotten Wilbur in the split. He had given Elle the option to keep the house but she didn’t feel like staying there on her own. It was as if the universe had conspired to push her out of her comfort zone.

Her college had let her transfer and she moved across the country to a bigger town where the neighbours were friendly but also kind of distant. Elle joined a gym and a reading group and took Max to the local park where she was on nodding terms with the other dog walkers. 

Elle was content. 

There was still a slight aching sadness from losing the future she had pictured with Peter but it wasn’t as raw as she had expected. Sometimes that made her wonder.

Just as Elle was getting settled the phone rang, making her jump and sending Max charging into the kitchen. 

No one ever called her.

“Hello?”

At first there was just silence. then there was a sharp intake of breath that made Elle’s stomach clench and every muscle in her body go into defence mode. When the caller finally spoke the tension remained but for a different reason.

“It’s Hotch”

There wasn’t enough room in Elle’s head to keep all the questions that sprung forth”

“I got Garcia to track you down. Something’s happened. Elle are you there?”

“I’m here” she said flatly.

“Gideon’s dead”

**Two Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine**

Closure was a lie, Elle had decided. Things stay with you. They burrow through your skin down to the marrow marrow where they lie dormant until years and year later it seeps out and spreads through like a virus. 

“Gideon’s dead”

Elle had ended up staying on the phone with Hotch for three hours. Not every part of the conversation was easy to recollect but in the white noise  there had been tears from two people, there had been shouts and there had been an apology.

There had not been a confession.

There had been an admission that when they had finally tracked the son of a bitch down Rossi had taken off on his own and the unsub had ended up dead.

The question hung unspoken in the air.

“You have to sign off on the shooting” Elle whispered “And you’re what? After my permission?”

Silence again.

“No” Elle realised “You already signed off. Is it because he’s you’re old friend? Because the guy killed Gideon?”

“I...”

“This is not an admission of guilt” Elle said, more to herself than Hotch.

“It is not” murmured Hotch “I guess I...”

Another long silence and Elle closed her eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths.

“I’m sorry Hotch and I forgive you”

“I forgive you too”

When they had finally hung up Elle had cried. She had cried for Gideon, for Hotch, for their team, for Peter and finally for herself. With each tear falling she exorcised a little more of the past from her.

It was difficult to articulate why. Elle wasn’t angry at Gideon anymore but she didn’t like the man and she still disapproved of his actions, they way he had hurt so many people. Yet Elle cried for him and all the rest, she was sad.

The next morning she wondered if rather than mourning a man she had been mourning a moment in time. Now the moment had passed. Was Gideon a symbol? If yes, then of what? Maybe Elle was just being stupid.

It felt like something massive had shifted but nothing had changed.

Confused and numb, Elle had taken Max to a neighbour and spent hours walking around the winding roads and woodlands outside down. She walked until the cold was inside her, her feet ached and her back spasmed.

No answers were forth coming but as she headed home, for the first time Elle wasn’t sure if she needed to ask any. Somethings things just were.

She was mourning the fact that the chance for resolution was gone.

**Day Three Thousand**

The sadness would stay for a while but it would lessen and Elle would no longer feel tethered to a scared woman from a decade ago.


End file.
